Living Metaphors
by Little Fausto's Lullaby
Summary: Ciel Phantomhive wrote a horror play. The Devil liked it. (Originally posted on AO3).


**Prologue**

**«Theft»**

"I hate this place."

For a second Ciel seemed to ignore the blonde and his inane ramblings, but when no witty remarks followed, he spoke, unsure of _what kind of junk_ was crawling its way out of Alois' mind.

"Excuse me, what?"

"Something or a certain someone is pretty fucked up. And I mean it, babe, when I say let's gather our stuff and get the hell out of here."

This was serious. Phantomhive felt like some angry engine was sucking the air out of their room. Normally one would just wave the child off and go on with his business. Alois had a knack for drama, coming up with horror pranks and porn-themed jokes, that was Alois' refined method to lead the fools astray. Ciel knew better.

Rotten memories of their past, of dirty playground and silent alleys, flashed right before his blue eyes. Alois kept staring at the floor like it held some implicit yet marvelous truth. The whole time he simply scrawled random patterns all over the notebook not paying attention to his classmate's lecture.

"We've stayed here for over six months," Ciel recalled, biting his upper lip. "Why all of the sudden do you would want to leave?"

"People tend to believe you're the clever one, don't they?" he spat viciously. "Because I wear the looks of an insecure, anxious ragdoll always clinging to your tailcoat."

The boy started giggling and Ciel had the urge to cry for him. The 'tailcoat' reference, of course, was never a healthy example, only because he despised cloaked figures. Alois reminded his friend of a tragic clown from Shakespeare's _Twelfth Night_. He needed no mask, though.

"Maybe I'm really lacking charm. I couldn't be the evil, you know?" Ciel admitted, trying to reassure his other half. "That's entirely your job."

"It's not about our fucking façade at all," he whispered, clenching his teeth in a fit of unexplainable rage. "I've never been on good terms with myself. Not here, in this empty nook or back there on stage. I'm not even cool when the curtain falls and there's no one left to deceive."

"Alois, a few minutes ago we were just reviewing Spear's conference. Now you're freaking me out…"

"They're real," he whispered, and the whole world stood still.

Ciel's heart froze. He claimed to be a rational being –a fearful prick couldn't scare him off. Nonetheless, he was trembling.

His brain attempted to lull him into a safer corner and he chuckled. But that gesture seemed so hypocritical.

If only the creepy fair-haired lad would have laughed as well.

"A movie cliché, honestly?" the student argued, scratching his nape, "Come on, Alois, our mentors taught us better."

"Hmmm, I see. A playwright apprentice is supposed to enjoy gory tales, am I right?" he asked, glancing at Ciel's lap. "After all, you chose Poe's anthology as a topic for the final paper, and I've seen you buying a bunch of low-rate comics from that dreadful man's parlor…what was his nickname?"

"The Undertaker?" Ciel's snorted. "Oh, babe, don't let him trick you. The guy owns a wonderful collection."

"Ciel, I'm aware of your secret fetish for the death."

"Yeah, how extremely smart from you to point that out." He relaxed a little. "Especially when the object of your bright assumptions is wearing a Gorgoroth t-shirt."

Alois mumbled some sharp insult about his partner's clothes selection.

"Dude, please stop, just… arghhhh!" Ciel slammed his forehead against the table, and finally released the breath he held for an almost an entire minute. "That sinister monologue almost killed me. Not because you sounded convincing… but for all the… I don't know…" He began fidgeting and making gurgling noises. "…that chilly atmosphere you pulled me into."

"Baby, your face looked priceless," Alois chirped, sprawling himself all over the chair, resuming his previous attitude.

"Alois, listen," he scolded. "We really need to finish this crap before the clock chimes ten, okay? You remember that odd company I mentioned today?" Ciel immediately lifted his scraggly frame from the desk and walked directly to a cupboard.

"Why are you wiggling your butt? Is that a tactic to seduce me? Because the answer is no," Alois frowned.

"Hey, some desperate fan of yours saw us hanging together and…" he made one of those pleading pauses that Alois loathed so much, "… got me tickets to a private saloon downtown. I was wondering if you would drag your ass there with me. Last time we fooled around you were sixteen and your mum bought us condoms." Ciel returned, rubbing a red rimmed pamphlet on Alois's face. Skimming through it, he whistled contemptuously.

"Blah, blah, blah. I want to rape a zombie. Yeah, you punkish abomination, I can tell what's going on. We are sick of school, the play is wearing us out, Vice Principal Tanaka is a fucking Nazi and you need to get laid so your dark hormones may settle down."

"You read me like I'm Goethe, babe".

"Consider it done, bitch," he smirked.

Some hideous soul rapped the door like their life depended on it.

"Who the fuck knocks like that?" Ciel queried, floating in the middle of his post-orgasmic glory.

"Stupidity inspection. You're under arrest," a high-pitched voice called from the other side.

"Ahaha, it's our worst nightmare. We're screwed."

"Elizabeth, daughter of grace," the brunette yelled, like he was declaiming in front of a crowd, "You're so annoying I wonder why my aunt's womb bothered to give you birth."

"Family wanted a baby with a bigger dick."

"Ouch," Alois murmured.

"Get in. We were doomed anyways."

"I can't," she complained, turning the knob. "This shit is locked."

Ciel sighed. It was Alois' thing to seclude them like a nuclear winter was coming soon.

"What can I do for you?" he resignedly asked, not even caring to invite her in.

"You still mad at me, freak?" Lizzy muttered, waiting in the guilty threshold.

"My, my, cute child. Sometimes I believe you're foreign to the concept of subtlety," Ciel sarcastically confessed. "And no, for Lucifer's sake, we're all used to your perfidious background. It's probably a modern myth, I guess."

"Haha, so full of forgiveness, as ever," she declared, closing the tense distance and giving him a bitter peck on the lips.

"Well, you just took a bit of his venom," the blonde teen jested, clapping his hands in delight.

The girl stuck her tongue out and scanned the quarters, searching for nothing in particular.

Right then, she spotted a certain flyer and her emerald orbs widened in surprise.

"Holy crap, so you guys knew about it too!" Elizabeth squealed, ruining her "Satanist nun" pose.

"Uh… yeah?" Ciel inquired, shrugging her comment off. "We're heading there after homework, but you're more into 'swarming museums'", he mimicked fake quotes in the air, "… so my goth shit is out of the question."

"Old-school nerds don't attend Friday night mass?" she uttered, feigning disappointment. "Darling, you just destroyed my beliefs. That was rude."

"What can I say? My 'Filth' has a thing for your 'Gaga'."

"You meant 'Barbie'," Alois corrected.

"Ok, you dorks are clearly missing my point here," she blamed them.

"Liz, I've been missing your point my whole life," his cousin acknowledged.

"There will be a _gathering_, ok?" Elizabeth announced, proud of her conniving skills. Both boys remained mute.

"Care to elaborate?" the punk gently suggested. His bloodlust was pungent, like a primary need.

"In the midst of Apocalypse, you would slither back to me like a stray puppy. I'm unfortunately a few inches taller."

"I've heard rumors of it, yup, but don't harbor illusions, Jezebel," Alois interrupted, grabbing the damn leaflet and wetting its edges with a bad nervousness. He was beginning to fall for the spell too.

"_Viscount_ Druitt is hosting a party afterwards. He's dying to meet the staff, and tonight's show will be exclusively different.

"Do you fancy that ugly parasite!?" Ciel wondered, infuriated. "Oh, right, how dumb of me! I forgot leeches are prone to function in pairs. They suck on each other, so no bigger harms can come to humanity."

"Hey, drop the gun, smartass. I just came here to set a peace agreement, and make things work between us two."

"Wow, that's so nice from you, sweet cousin. What a shame I'm not interested."

"I ordered Sieglinde to fetch you the tickets… you owe me this one."

Ciel broke in mirth. This was getting ever funnier now.

"Baby, you should've used the term 'asked'. What's with this disgusting aristocrat shit around your person all the time?"

"Let me _ask_ you something, jerk," she yelled. "Who you think stole your stupid script and gave it to them, huh?!".

"That just fills the expectations!" Ciel reacted, grasping her shoulders. Alois swallowed. Now the fog was getting thicker.

"See, apparently _my_ style didn't please their standards, so my brainless colleague opted for a… spontaneous solution."

"My ultimate play…" he murmured. Realization clouded his pupils.

"Elizabeth, you whore!" Alois abruptly cried, stomping his foot. "Those pages required months of dedication! He almost failed the semester because of your foul game! William was raging! How dare you?"

"Forget academy, forget the tax agent, forget Vincent's pressure!" she defended her actions, reasoning to a cadaver. Ciel never loosened the grip, but inwardly hesitated. "Druitt is bound to a powerful hierarchy, and he told me you gained a great deal of attention from the higher ranks."

The mysterious aristocrat had his own putrid record, but also a fortune that spoke volumes. Carefully, the Phantomhive heir analyzed the girl's argument. How do you cope with a lunatic's logic? It's basically a dead end.

"Undertaker might say: 'what a tricky mermaid she is –playing the dirtiest card upon her sleeve'."

"Go tell that Undertaker fellow _someone_ very, very important read your mediocre writings and praised them. This shall be the lucky deathblow you were praying for."

"Black-clad kids don't pray, milady," Ciel snapped.

"What a delightful _Faust_ you would make."

"Save that speech for my mourning parade –so you'll spare the corpse from hearing it," the brunette begged.

"Don't get ambitious on me, Phantomhive."

"I wish for a single guest to my funeral."

_The Devil_.

After what seemed an eternity, Ciel released the hold. Lizzy's bare skin was blemished with ten crimson splotches; each one belonged to a firm finger. He implored the ceiling to crumble on her.

"Let us rest in _heaven_. I need the script."

"You can't have it back; the one who currently has the original is attached to it," the Midford sang.

"Oh dear, what a twisted form of flattery, how tragic!"

"Ciel, don't be fucking daft!" Elizabeth shrieked, raising her velvety voice to a gruesome level. "Just accept Druitt's offer and join us midnight at _The Basement._ You can bring Alois too…"

"What kind of benefit could the Viscount get from helping me? I'm just a bad-behaved senior with homicidal tendencies."

"… and, according to the grapevine, one hell of a writer too."

He could feel Alois' warmth shielding his senses. A pair of cotton arms encircled his waist and pressed him closer. Soft kisses were placed on his cold cheek. "_This is me, Ciel"_, his touch reassured,_ "I'm willing to let this happen_ _–the witch won't harm us."_ The child sought for deeper promises; but what could a mortal give him?

"Now, now, my dear. Decisions are up to you," purred the vampire, and Ciel could've swore her eyes glinted magenta.

The Cheshire boy merely nodded.


End file.
